Maeve’s POV
The sun had just gone down when I went back to my room. I left the quiet tension of the main floor behind. The estate was large, but the air felt clean and free of screaming ex-lovers in torn clothes.
I sat at my writing desk and looked through the financial reports for the Ashford Studio. The business was growing. The numbers were rising, and every print layout for our new launch was falling into place. Life, as far as I was concerned, was moving forward on my terms.
A sharp ring cut through the quiet.
I looked down at my phone on the leather blotter. An unknown number flashed on the screen. No name. No saved contact.
I let it ring three times before I slid my thumb across the glass and put the phone to my ear. I did not say hello. I simply waited.
“Maeve,” a voice said
